


Santa Baby

by Sexxica



Series: Sugar Daddy John [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, Collars, Daddy Kink, Gags, High Heels, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Naughty Sherlock, Santa Kink, Sex Toys, Spanking, Stockings, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Sugar Baby Sherlock, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy John, Twink Sherlock, Women's Underwear, Younger Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just before Christmas and Sherlock's Daddy has left him a very pretty present ... but is it his Daddy that will get to enjoy it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa Baby

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here is my Merry Christmas to all of you wonderful readers in the form of the filthiest little Christmas fic I could imagine. This takes place with the same Sherlock and Daddy John from [Everything You Need](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2525993) although probably a ways down the timeline from where that one ended. Please enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Sherlock stared for a moment at the shiny black box, accented with a bright red silk bow, that his Daddy had left on the kitchen counter, where he was sure to find it.  The box was neither large nor small, thin nor tall - it was mysteriously ordinary.  Sherlock touched the warm, smooth ribbon - rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.  His Daddy always left him such thoughtful gifts.

Sherlock pulled the stiff white card that had his name across the front from underneath the ribbon, turned it over to see if his Daddy had left a note.  He had:  _ Wear it tonight and wait. Merry Christmas, baby. _   Sherlock grinned and pressed the card to his chest, his heart fluttering.  He bit his lip as he pulled one end of the bow, watching the silk glide over itself as it came undone.  

He lifted the top off the box and set it aside, separated the folded layers of red tissue to reveal his present.  Sherlock blushed and picked up the thin material of his Daddy’s gift, holding it up to get a better look at it.  It was all red and white stripes and bows and ruffles and Sherlock couldn’t wait to put it on.  He would have to though, his Daddy wouldn’t be home until that night.

He tried to keep himself occupied during the day, and spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready. Trimming and shaving and soaking in the tub so he would be perfect for his Daddy, perfect before he slipped into the present his Daddy had gotten for him.

Eventually the time came, Sherlock thought, where he should finish getting ready and wait for his Daddy to get home.  He had his gift all laid out on the bed.  First he pulled on each red and white striped thigh high stocking over his freshly shaved legs, making sure that the  broad lacy tops of them lined up perfectly, the small red bows front and centre.  Next he pulled the one-piece over his head, tugging down the tight mini dress as far as it would go and tying the top up in a bow behind his neck.  It fit snugly, the bottom of it a line of white ruffles that just barely covered him in the front, and cut to sit high in the back, exposing his bottom with a big red bow sitting right in the middle.  The cups of it were small, white and ruffly and sat flush with Sherlock’s chest.  The rest of it was candy cane striped, red and white again, to match the stockings and was tight across his belly.  Finally he put on the soft pair of red knickers that came with it, gaining himself a bit more coverage, but Sherlock doubted that those would stay on very long.  

Sherlock looked at himself in the full length mirror.  Tucked and adjusted what needed to be tucked or adjusted and slipped into his favourite pair of shiny black stilettos.  He was sure his Daddy would appreciate the final touch.  

Sherlock went out into the sitting room to wait.  It was all done up for Christmas with garlands and lights and a big, glittering Christmas tree next to his Daddy’s favourite armchair.  Sherlock turned all the sparkling lights on, lit a fire in the fireplace, and perched himself prettily on his Daddy’s chair.  Then, he waited.

 

 

* * *

 

Sherlock woke up confused and bleary eyed, something red and white and close in front of him.  “Daddy?” he mumbled sleepily.  Sherlock couldn’t remember falling asleep - couldn’t even remember feeling tired as he waited for his Daddy to get home.

“Ho ho I’m afraid not, little boy,”  came the reply with a rumbling chuckle.

Sherlock blinked the sleep from his eyes and finally focussed properly on the figure in front of him.  It  _ was _ his Daddy, but wearing a bright red Santa suit, trimmed in white fur, a small pair of wire-framed glasses resting on his nose, and his beard seemed whiter than Sherlock remembered.  Maybe fuller too?  Usually Sherlock didn’t have to question his memory, but something definitely seemed different about his Daddy and he couldn’t exactly place what it was.

“Santa?”  Sherlock questioned again, always willing to play along with any of his Daddy’s games.

“Very clever, Sherlock.”  Santa winked at him, making him blush.  “Do you think I could have a seat?”

“Oh, um, yes, of course,” Sherlock said, quickly standing up and only wobbling slightly on his stilettos as Santa sat down in the big chair with a comfortable sigh, setting the large sack he had been carrying aside.  Sherlock chewed his bottom lip a little, tugging at the incredibly short hem of his dress as Santa leisurely looked him up and down, a small appreciative smile on his face.

“Now tell me, have you been a good boy this year?”

“Yes, Santa, I’ve been very good.”  Sherlock answered.

“Oh really?”  Santa cocked an eyebrow, “you know I check my list twice.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” Sherlock blushed again, eyes downcast.

He raked his eyes over Sherlock one more time, “and you don’t look like a very good boy, now do you?  You look downright naughty.”

Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of Santa, putting his hands on his thighs and slowly running them up the soft red velvet of his trousers.  Sherlock looked up at him through lowered lashes, a trick that almost always worked on his Daddy.  “I could … show you what a good boy I can be.”

Santa put his white gloved hands over Sherlock’s, pushing them back off his legs.  “Now now, little boy, trying to bribe your way onto the nice list?   _ Very _ naughty.  I think you need to be punished.  What do you suppose the punishment should be for such bad behaviour?”

“Coal in my stocking?”  Sherlock guessed cheekily, and Santa quirked a smile.

“Hmm, I think someone your age needs something a little more … personal.  Hold your hands out for me.”

Sherlock did as he was told, holding his hands out, while Santa reached over to pull something from his bag.  It was a shiny red ribbon, just like the one that had been on the box of Sherlock’s gift.  “These seem to be trouble, so let’s just take care of them first.” 

Santa smiled and in a flash Sherlock’s wrists were bound together, a beautiful big bow topping off the perfectly wrapped ribbon.  

Santa placed a gloved hand on Sherlock’s cheek his thumb resting right on the bow of his upper lip.  He dragged it slowly down, catching on Sherlock’s bottom lip and pulling it briefly downward, exposing his teeth and tongue. “And, I think this is trouble too, isn’t it?” he said, his voice low and suggestive.  Sherlock nodded, his lip slipping free of Santa’s thumb.  “I thought as much.”  

Santa reached into his sack again, this time pulling out a long strip of thick red velvet that matched his suit perfectly.  He leaned forward, pushing the material into Sherlock’s mouth until it bit into the corners, and then tied it tightly at the back of Sherlock’s head.  “There now, at least you can’t get yourself into any  _ more _ trouble like this, now can you?”  Sherlock shook his head, the smooth velvet in his mouth already starting to soak through with saliva.

“Let’s see to your punishment then, hmm you naughty thing?  And if you take it well, maybe … maybe Santa will give you a nice present after.”  

Sherlock’s eyes glazed over a little at the thought of what his treat might be if he were good.  This game was already very fun, and Sherlock squirmed a little where he knelt with the excitement of it, tongueing at the thick, wet, fabric in his mouth.

“Up into Santa’s lap now.” he said, shifting a little in the chair, getting comfortable.  Sherlock stood carefully, still a little unsteady on his heels.  With his hands bound, he had to be extra cautious too.  Santa grabbed his hips as soon as he was standing, and guided him around to bend over his lap.  Sherlock’s shoes slipped off, landing with a solid clunk as his hips were canted up and his feet suddenly left the floor, most of his weight being supported by Santa’s knee under his belly, and the rest on his forearms against the far arm of the big chair. 

There was a short pause before one of Santa’s hands, bare now, came down to rest between Sherlock’s shoulder blades, holding him steady while the other tugged his panties down and off.  Sherlock moaned weakly through the gag, his face turning nearly as red as his outfit, as his cock started to fill out against Santa’s thigh.

“So, Sherlock,” Santa said, running a hand up the back of Sherlock’s thigh, toying with the lace at the top of his stockings.  “Not only are you dressed like the naughtiest thing I’ve ever seen, your behaviour isn’t much better, is it?  You think that just because you have this lean little body and that pretty face, that you can get whatever you want.  But it’s not enough is it?  You have to be a good boy to get nice things." 

With that Santa brought his hand down hard on Sherlock's bare arse. Hard enough to sting something awful and make Sherlock yelp around the gag. The blows didn't stop until Sherlock's cheeks were a festive red and tears were pricking at his eyes. More embarrassing though was how achingly hard he was. Hard and leaking and writhing in Santa's lap. 

Santa's hand lingered on Sherlock's stinging arse, rubbing lightly and dipping occasionally between his cheeks. Sherlock couldn't help but spread his legs just a little, just enough so that Santa's warm fingers could brush teasingly over his hole. 

Sherlock whined through his sodden gag and Santa shushed him. "I thought you wanted to be a good boy. Good boys are patient, Sherlock."

Sherlock tried to take a deep breath through his nose and hold himself still in Santa’s lap, even as Santa reached down into his bag again.  Sherlock heard a soft click then smelled peppermint before he felt the cool, tingling liquid drip down between his cheeks.  He bit down hard against his gag, trying not to squirm too much or moan.  

Something solid and long pressed between Sherlock’s arse cheeks, sliding and twisting through the tingling, minty lube before the blunt end of it pressed up against his hole.  “I expect a naughty boy like you can take this, right?”  Santa asked, putting a bit of pressure on the toy.  Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, wanting any kind of stimulation to take away from the radiating sting of his fresh spanking.

Sherlock couldn’t help but groan quietly as Santa pushed the toy into him just a little, just opening him up ever so slightly, then pulled it back out.  Sherlock lost count of the maddening number of times Santa repeated the motion, the tingle and minty aroma of the lube just heightening Sherlock’s senses.  He couldn’t beg though, couldn’t even push himself back against the toy because Santa had moved his hand down to his lower back and was holding him still.  And if he wasn’t patient, Sherlock knew he wouldn’t get his present.

The slow push forward was absolute agony.  Sherlock was quivering and desperate, drooling through his gag by the time Santa finally had the toy sunk all the way inside of him.  Sherlock would have collapsed with relief if he wasn’t already laid out across Santa’s lap.  

“Now, isn’t that nice.”  Santa chuckled, “I know you can’t see it, but this particular toy matches your outfit perfectly.”  He twisted the slim thing slowly inside of Sherlock.  “I picked it out just for you, and if you keep being a good little boy, you’ll get the other things I have just for you too.”

Sherlock jerked hard and moaned as Santa flipped a switch on the toy inside of him, sending a strong string of vibrations through him.  He quickly settled himself back down though, lying as still and as quiet as he could manage as Santa gripped the base of the toy, starting to move it inside of him.  Sherlock’s cock twitched and throbbed against Santa’s thigh and he felt awash with need.  He needed more, needed to rut against Santa’s leg or have that toy pushed into him hard and fast - anything other than the prolonged teasing he was getting.

“Oh  _ so _ pretty.”  Santa breathed, pulling the toy out and pressing it back in at an angle.  Sherlock let out a muffled sob as it grazed across his prostate and all his nerves seemed to fire off at once.  It was far too much and still not nearly enough.  It took everything Sherlock had not to try to beg or whine or get his way, even though he was feeling half mad with want.  His Daddy never made him wait this long.

Santa pulled the vibrator out and pressed it back in again and again while Sherlock just lay there and took it.  He felt like maybe he was going to die of need, of being denied release, of this slow torturous pleasure.  And then suddenly it all stopped.  The vibrator was turned off and removed and Santa was helping Sherlock off his lap to kneel between his legs.

Sherlock felt weak and a little shaky, but his cock was still so hard.  He looked up at Santa, noticing for the first time the erection tenting his red trousers and Sherlock whined just a little.  Santa leaned forward and untied the gag, then unwrapped his wrists while Sherlock stretched his jaw.  “Have you learned your lesson, Sherlock?” Santa asked, and Sherlock nodded.  “You’ve been a very good boy for me, so patient, so quiet.  I think you deserve a little present.”  Santa smiled down at him and reached into his bag.

He pulled out a thick, black leather collar with a row of three bells across the front of it.  Santa buckled it around Sherlock’s neck, and the bells jingled cheerfully with every little move Sherlock made.  Sherlock reached up to touch it, feeling the cool metal of the bells and the rich, smooth leather.  It felt warm and just a little heavy on his neck.  It felt good.

Santa pulled Sherlock back up to sit on his knee, wrapping a hand around his waist while the other rubbed his thigh.  “Tell me what you want for Christmas, little boy.” he said, his voice rough, and Sherlock couldn’t hold back a moan.

“I-I want you to fuck me, Santa, please.” Sherlock stuttered, needy and desperate.

“Oh Sherlock, still such a naughty boy, but I think I can make an exception just this once.”  Santa smiled and undid his trousers, pulling out his thick, hard cock.  Sherlock licked his lips.  It was fat and red and perfect, and Sherlock wanted it inside of him.  “Come on then, spread those naughty legs for me and sit on Santa’s lap.”

Sherlock swallowed hard and moved to kneel on the chair, one leg on either side of Santa, facing away from him.  His collar jingled with every move he made and he braced his hands on Santa’s knees.  “Mmm that’s it, Sherlock.” Santa said, running his hands over Sherlock’s arse, up his back, then down again to use one hand to spread his cheeks, using the other to guide his cock.  “Sit down for me, nice and easy.” He encouraged and Sherlock did as he was told, thighs shaking as he lowered himself down, feeling the hot, blunt head of Santa’s cock push into his already relaxed hole.

Santa groaned and Sherlock nearly sobbed as he slowly filled himself with Santa’s hard cock.  It was a stretch, but it felt incredible, and Sherlock shuddered when he finally sat all the way down.  Santa pulled Sherlock back into him, ran his hands down the ruffly cups of Sherlock’s outfit, over the striped fabric stretched taut over his stomach, then down to caress his thighs.  He wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s chest, holding on to his shoulder as he thrust up into him.

“Ohh!” Sherlock moaned, letting his head fall back onto Santa’s shoulder.

“Is this what you wanted, you naughty boy?”

“Yuh-yes! Thank you, Santa,” Sherlock whined as Santa continued to thrust hard and quick into him.

“You feel so good.  So tight and warm.  Your Daddy is a very lucky man.”

“No, I, ohh, I’m the lucky one.” Sherlock managed to say, his mind starting to white out with finally being fucked properly, finally being filled.  “M-my Daddy treats me so well, even wh-- ahh, when I’m bad.  He gives me everything I need.  Oh please!” Sherlock nearly shouted, needing to be touched so badly, needing to come.

“There’s a good boy.” Santa mumbled, thrusting harder up into Sherlock and wrapping one hand around his cock.

Sherlock’s collar was jingling like mad as he did his best to meet Santa’s thrusts, whining and moaning with each one, and feeling like he was going to pass out when Santa gripped his cock, tugging on it from root to tip.  

“Let it go, Sherlock, I know how much you need to.”  Santa nearly growled in Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock’s mouth opened in a soundless scream, his eyes squeezed shut and his whole body shook while he came.  He had been on edge for so long that finally spilling over was just that much more intense.  So intense that it made his eyes water and his lungs burn when he finally managed to draw in a gulping breath.  He felt the throb and the wetness of Santa coming inside him too, and it just made his body twitch with pleasure in response.  

It all felt amazing -- the velvet against his skin, the lingering smell of peppermint, the way Santa stroked the last spurts of come out of him, making a mess of them both, and even the tinny jingle of his new collar.  He finally came down from the high of his orgasm to Santa murmuring “good boy” in his ear and Sherlock smiled weakly, completely exhausted.

 

 

* * *

 

“Sherlock.  Sherlock are you awake?”

Sherlock jerked up in bed.  “Huh, Santa?” he questioned fuzzily.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, there was an emergency.”  His Daddy sat down on the bed next to Sherlock.  “Santa, huh?  Were you dreaming?”  his Daddy smiled kindly at him.

Sherlock blinked and noticed that his Daddy only had some light stubble, no full beard like he had just earlier that evening.  “Your beard.” Sherlock said, baffled, reaching up to touch his Daddy’s face.

“Shaved it off this morning.  Why, do you miss it?”

“But you had it tonight.”  Sherlock was confused.

“I just got home, love.”  his Daddy laughed, “I think you might still be dreaming.  I shouldn’t have woken you.  I’m sorry.”

“N-no, but …” Sherlock trailed off, starting to wonder how exactly he had gotten into bed, and where his clothes were.

John smoothed the hair off Sherlock’s forehead.  “It’s alright sweetheart, just go back to sleep, okay?  You’ll have to wear your present for me tomorrow.  I was really looking forward to it, but I’m glad you didn’t wait up.”  Sherlock just nodded blankly in response.

“Oh, and since you’ll probably guess what it is anyway, here. Merry Christmas, baby.”  His Daddy handed over another plain black box that jingled quietly.  Sherlock smiled shyly and opened the box, finding exactly what he thought it was going to be - a thick black leather collar with a row of silver bells.    

“Thank you, Daddy.  And Merry Christmas.”  Sherlock said quietly in return, leaning forward to give his Daddy a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/)


End file.
